


Dynamics II

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-23
Updated: 2008-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:49:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plot, along with other things, thicken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dynamics II

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place directly after [Dynamics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/265228).

Ianto, as always, slid into a seat closest to the window and put his messenger bag in front of his feet. The bus was already half full and there were more than a dozen people still vying to get on, but no one sat down next to him. Even the crazy lady holding the blanket wrapped doll had a business man sit down next to her as the bus pulled away. Torchwood was rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

Ianto didn’t look around. On sunny days, when the air conditioning from the floor of the bus couldn’t compete with the greenhouse effect of the glass, he liked to look around and imagine every person on the bus with him would never get their face gnawed off by an alien or ejected into a black hole. It was a pleasant daydream, but it was overcast and grey, so Ianto left his fellow bus people to their fates and stared straight ahead.

The hub was always quiet first thing. Ianto still loved throwing on the lights and watching the entire centre come to life. Torchwood One had been so white, so clinical, so (dead) antiseptic , it made Ianto love the exposed rock and pipes all the more. He took a moment, because he could, then moved to Tosh’s area. Gwen had been the last one in her chair, so he adjusted it back the way Tosh liked it, then put away whatever breakables that would cost time or money to replace from Owen’s bay. He left a glass beaker or two should something happen. Owen was always calmer after something broke--better it be open stock than alien technology.

He left Jack’s office for after the seven a.m. feeding, it was just better that way. They didn’t have much, just the weevil who hissed at him like always and the wave alien that had a dual digestive tract. It had a mouth, but it could also feed off the vibrations of sounds. They’d picked him up underground, where he’d grown fat off the aging punk rockers and the music they played. Ianto had switched the cds to Vivaldi about a month ago, and the alien, its tentacles now neatly groomed and tied back with a clasp, barely looked up from the Sunday Times to acknowledge the fresh crumpets.

“Ungrateful sod,” Ianto told it, and the thing blatted its displeasure at such harsh language. Ianto dug into to the last of his supplies of both rats, fresh and rats, rotted for the third and second last cages (nothing stirred from the inky tendrils of smoke, thank god) to the group of surfers in the last cell.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know exactly what you eat,” Ianto said, slightly apologetic. “So I brought a selection.”

One, the largest one, it was always the largest one, Ianto thought, separated itself from the rest of the group. They stared at each other through plastic that could withstand anything from a nuclear blast to Ianto’s mother and still look like it just needed a good wipe-down. Ianto blinked. The thing blinked. Ianto was about to say that sadly, he was off the menu to all but the most discerning tastes, but if it could chose another animal, vegetable or mineral to feed on, Ianto would see that it happened. But then it spoke using the clicking sounds of its throat and mandibles in something that roughly approximated English when spoken by a hundred and twenty year old chain smoker.

“You. Powder-puff man. Take me to your leader,” it said, then sneezed baking powder against the glass.

Ianto rolled his eyes and called for Jack.

*

When Jack came down the hall, a waft of hot, moist air with definite floral notes came with him. He was fully dressed, suspenders and all, but Ianto saw him, towel around his hips, scrub brush in one hand and ducky in the other. Ianto looked away, quickly, but that didn’t last long.

“Ianto?” Jack asked, and flashed him a pearly white smile. Seriously, the man could do tooth brush commercials, or those strip things that only seemed like a good idea when he was insomniac and it was three a.m.

“They speak,” Ianto said, motioning to the aliens behind him. “And they want you.”

“Who doesn’t?” Jack asked, and turned to face the aliens. The big one blinked again, then bowed what Ianto was human-centrically calling its head. “Captain Jack Harkness. What is it that I can do for you.”

It made the clicking again, a universal clearing of the throat sound. “Release us.”

“I’m going to go with no. Ianto, your thoughts?”

“No,” Ianto said.

“It’s unanimous,” Jack said. “Anything else?”

“You don’t have permission to hold us.”

“Oh, you’ve got me there. Ianto, may I hold them?”

“By all means.”

Jack bared his teeth now, but he wasn’t smiling. “Well, that settles it. And you’re now boring me. So, if you’re through complaining, we’ve got work to do,” he flashed Ianto a look, one that promised sweaty, sticky things that Jack delivered on as much as he promised. “We have very important things involving whipped cream and bananas to attend to.”

More clicking sounds, this time confused. They were probably having a hard time understanding the concept of ‘whipped’ when used with ‘cream’. “I am Agent g907i. I will spare your ears the sound that makes in our language. We are on the hunt for a missing fugitive that resembles your body sack, and to keep us here violates the agreement Earth signed with our planet in the year 2314.”

The rift played havoc on everything, Ianto thought. Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, small problem with that, you’re in year 2008.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are—“ One of the smaller ones make a click, then two, and the exchange that sounded like a horde of irate, rampaging land crabs the size of Irish wolfhounds. When the alien turned back to Jack again, finally, it let out a sharp blast that was ‘Aw, fuck’ in any language.

“Our mistake,” it said, instead. “Please let us out.”

“Oh, we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, you have a pH of 2, and for the other, you’ve already killed nine people.”

More clicking. “We are sorry about that,” was the response. “The fugitive had discovered a bus load of your people. We tried to stop him, but of course we are too late. If you are to present our consulate with an invoice in the year 2314, we will be happy to make adequate reparations.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to the grieving families. The only place you’ll be going is the hell off my planet.”

“Grammatically, Jack—“ Ianto began, but was interrupted again by the horde of land crabs.

“Then what of the fugitive?” came the response, and despite the clicking noise, the plaintive tone carried through. “He must be stopped before he kills again.”

Jack looked at Ianto. Ianto had nothing. Jack, having nothing either, shrugged. “Give us the information you have.”

“Open the door.”

Ianto stepped forward. “Put whatever information you may have in the drawer,” he said, motioning to the food tray. “We’ll take it from there.”

“You will not be able to read it.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jack said, but the smile was gone. “Mandible it over.”

So they did. It looked like the incisor tooth of some small rodent. It probably was. Ianto took it, and together with Jack, went back upstairs.

By then, Tosh was back. She took the tooth, glancing up to Jack for more instructions and Jack patted her shoulder. “Think of it as an organic SD card.”

“I don’t have an organic SD card reader, Jack.” Tosh tried to give it back.

Jack wouldn’t take it. “Yet,” Jack said. “Call me when you do. Not that you need the extra stress, Tosh, but time, essence, you know the rest.”

She nodded and went to work. Ianto supposed he could stand over Tosh and look involved, but other than that, there was nothing more that he could do. Jack seemed to sense it, too. He stretched, working his elbow with his other hand and said, “Ianto, with me.”

“With, with you?” Ianto asked.

Jack didn’t say anything, but raised his eyebrow. With, with him indeed. He made his excuses to Tosh, who in all honesty probably didn’t hear them to begin with because she already had a set of electrodes out. Ianto ran up the stairs with Jack, who closed the office door behind him and backed Ianto up to the desk.

“So what’s it going to be? Sailor on leave? Naughty secretary? Last Crion on Planet Blowjob?”

“How about brave leader of Torchwood Three and his intrepid guy Friday having sex over your desk?” Ianto asked, already moving behind his back, shifting reports, logs and other paraphernalia that Ianto swears doesn’t enter the hub by any natural means and yet still finds its way to Jack’s desk away from behind him.

Jack narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know, Ianto. That seems to lack verisimilitude.”

“It shouldn’t; I stocked up on Wednesday. You should find plenty of verisimilitude in the bottom drawer. A whole variety of it, in fact.”

“Extra large? Ribbed for her horribly hetero-normative pleasure?”

Ianto snorted. “You flatter yourself. But yes.”

Jack wrapped his hand around Ianto’s tie, closer and closer so that all Ianto had to do was tilt his head down and he could kiss Jack’s fist. But he didn’t look away from Jack’s face. Jack nudged his legs apart, still holding onto his tie, and Ianto, who’d been half hard since he smelled Jack coming down the hall, all but sealed the deal. Jack must have felt his cock against his thigh, because he licked his teeth and used his free hand to pull Ianto’s hips closer to him.

“I could flatter us both if you want me to,” he said, voice suddenly thick. Ianto hesitated, wanting Jack to say ‘cock’ and ‘suck’ and ‘your’ in the same sentence. He himself couldn’t quite over-ride his own upbringing to quite want to say the words yet. But Jack reined himself in for Ianto, and if that meant he could nod and look away and Jack would take care of the rest.

Jack didn’t let go of Ianto’s tie, but wrestled with Ianto’s slacks with one hand. He didn’t look away, but for the once to manage the zipper. Although Ianto wasn’t aware his mouth was open, his tongue felt dry, so it must have been for a while. It made it easier for Jack to kiss him, hard, teeth scraping places Ianto never thought he’d liked scraped, but he did, and Jack knew that too.

Ianto couldn’t look away from Jack’s blue eyes, even when Jack had managed to get his shorts off as well and had gathered up his cock. It felt so good in Jack’s hand, so heavy, and still Jack did nothing but hold it, letting it rest against the fleshy part between his thumb and his forefinger, and if Jack were to look away to, god help him, go down on Ianto, he would just die. For that moment, and the next what seemed eternity, Jack didn’t move. He parted his lips, wet skin glistening, and he smiled a last, devastating time. “Do you really want me to say it?”

“You’re telepathic now, too, Jack?”

“I don’t need to be around you. Do you want to hear me say I want to suck your cock?”

Ianto didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His cock jumped in Jack’s hand and he couldn’t help himself from thrusting against Jack’s body. “No, I’m good. You go ahead,” Ianto said, the lightness to his words more from lack of oxygen or blood flow than any nonchalance.

Jack ignored him. His eyes were bright, but still as sharp as ever. “Because if I say it, if I say I want to suck your cock, I’d have to do it, and that means letting go of your tie. And you seem to really be enjoying that, as well.”

Ianto licked his lips, and tasted the salt from Jack’s skin on them. Had he been kissing the back of Jack’s hand? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t think he had, but even as he pondered the question he found himself yet again rubbing his cheek against the back of the fist holding his tie.

“That’s why you have to make the tough calls,” Ianto said.

“That is very true.” Jack released him, one layer of wrap around his fist at a time, and Ianto used the freedom to sink back on Jack’s desk. It was almost worth it, just to look away from Jack’s eyes, but just staring up at the ceiling like he was left him suddenly feeling very alone.

“That thing with Owen, last night…” Ianto began, and Jack, who had been kissing his way down the hollow of Ianto’s belly.

“Yes?” Jack asked. Ianto felt his breath stirring the tiny hairs against his skin, and as much as he wanted to push Jack’s head down, lock his hands behind Jack’s head and… he cleared his throat.  
“That was just a lesson, was it?”

“You know it was,” Jack said. “I heard you munching popcorn.”

More likely it had been Ianto grinding his teeth, but Ianto didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything, in fact.

Jack stood up and leaned over him, placing both hands deliberately on each side of Ianto’s chest. “Just because I would do anything for you doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do anything for Owen, or Tosh, or Gwen.”

“Or the pterodactyl?” Ianto asked, but his smile seemed fake even to himself.

“Not the pterodactyl. Even I have limits. My point is, Owen needed that.”

“And I need this.”

“No, you want this. There’s a difference, you know. Can I keep going? That wooshing sound is the moment passing.”

Ianto waved his hand. Jack exhaled, and rested his head against Ianto’s pubic bone. “I want you to suck me, Jack. Please.”

“Done,” Jack said, and did.

Ianto slammed his fists against the desk’s surface. Jack was good. It wasn’t just the way he managed to take him all the way down his throat, in a way Ianto had never had done before. It wasn’t the way his finger tips and his tongue, this throat and the rhythm together, everything. The sheer skill Ianto was honoured to be in the presence of was mind, and cock, blowing.

And it only got better. Jack continued sucking him, hard enough that Ianto didn’t think he could stop himself, it was too hot, too hard, too fast, just too much. Jack grabbed Ianto’s thigh, twisting him over. Ianto forced himself up on his elbows. Which was good, because he suddenly needed his forearm to muffle his scream. Jack licked him, all the way from the back of his testicles to his ass and used his fist at the same pace his mouth had been on his cock. Ianto hadn’t even been close before, didn’t even know that this level of arousal was clinically possible, then decided, randomly, that it must work on a Richter Scale that seemed to defy all geometric methods of measuring. He was coming. After all the pent up need in his body made the actual act of boiling release the calms after the storm had passed and not any part of the build up.

Jack kept his fist on Ianto’s cock, even after his come had splattered across the cover of an old News Week magazine from 2019, an invoice from the city’s water works and a pound note. If his brain wasn’t detached from the rest of him, he would have been amazed at the amount and the spread. “You just don’t give yourself enough credit,” Jack said, kissed his ass, and helped him stand back up on his feet in time to hear Tosh’s triumphant yelp.


End file.
